


A Cunning Plan

by cordeliadelayne



Category: Primeval
Genre: Fandom Stocking 2017, Flirting, M/M, Seduction, Unresolved Sexual Tension, food as seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 13:56:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13412730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordeliadelayne/pseuds/cordeliadelayne
Summary: Burton has set his sights on Connor, and he always gets what he wants.





	A Cunning Plan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dunderklumpen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dunderklumpen/gifts).



> Written for dunderklumpen's fandom_stocking.

“This is amazing,” Connor said, running his fingers reverently along one of the consoles in the computer room, not quite believing that he was being allowed to touch it. “Really, really amazing."

After everything that had happened over the past few years and all the times he thought that he or Abby or someone else on the team might die, and all the times when someone on the team _had_ died, there was nothing quite so thrilling as standing here, at the very heart of Prospero Industries being lead on a private tour of its most confidential areas by _the_ Philip Burton himself. If younger Connor could see him now, he'd never believe it. In fact Connor was struggling to believe it and had already pinched himself twice on the way down there.

“I'm glad you think so,” Burton said, from behind Connor. “It's taken a lot of people a lot of hard work to get everything in place just the way I wanted it. But over the years my team has grown to anticipate my needs very well. I only recruit the best and the brightest, of course. And as I told you when I invited you here, there are ways we can benefit each other.” He touched Connor lightly on the shoulder and then moved his hand slowly down Connor's arm to his elbow, steering Connor down a flight of metal stairs and along a corridor towards another bank of computers.

“This is where the real work gets done, as you can see,” Burton said. The monitors blinked to life as Burton pressed a few buttons. “My greatest masterpiece.” A spinning figure in the middle of the screen twirled and twisted looking like a supercharged anomaly. “But perhaps you'd care for some lunch before we move on to the next stage of the tour?”

He smiled at Connor and again brushed his fingers against Connor's shoulder and the back of his neck. Connor shivered slightly at the touch, leaning almost imperceptibly back into Burton's warm presence.

“Oh, uh,” Connor looked down at his watch, trying to remember what he'd told Lester about when he'd be back at the office. He'd let Connor go on this tour only to shut Connor up, or so he'd said, but Connor didn't want to overstep, he knew that Lester wasn't pleased about Prospero Industries becoming involved with the ARC project.

Of course, Lester didn't know all about Philip Burton like Connor did. He'd read every one of Burton's papers, and his books, and seen all of his television interviews and might even have kept a scrapbook of newspaper cuttings about Burton when he was growing up and had a poster of the man stuck to the inside of his wardrobe door, though he'd deny it to his grave.

“I'm sure James won't mind if you're a little late,” Burton said, steering Connor down from the computer room and into his own office with a firm hand to his back. The hand spread a warmth along Connor's spine that he was quite enjoying until it was gone and he suddenly felt unaccountably bereft.

“Thank you,” Connor said, confusedly sitting down at the table that had been laid high with a pile of food and plates and even a white tablecloth.

“The work of my personal chef,” Burton explained, sitting down next to Connor. “I wasn't sure what you'd like so I suggested he made a selection.”

Connor nodded, taking on board that of course Burton was the sort of man that had a personal chef to do his bidding and followed Burton's instructions to help himself to the food, piling his plate high and tasting a little bit of everything.

“Here,” Burton said, “this is my favourite.” Burton picked up a small crab puff and placed it near Connor's lips. Connor moved to take it but then recognised the heated look in Burton's eyes and swallowed; he'd never had anyone look at him like that and it was all very confusing. “Open wide,” Burton said and Connor did, automatically responding to Burton's low rumbling tone of voice.

Connor bit into the offered food and, telling himself to be brave, licked at Burton's fingers. Burton let out a soft exhale of breath and Connor's heart started beating wildly.

“I've been watching your progress closely,” Burton said. “You have an impressive mind, Connor. Your abilities far outweigh the capacities of the ARC project as it currently stands. I fear that I underestimated you at first, for which I apologise. That was terribly remiss of me.”

“Thanks,” Connor said, fiddling nervously with the tablecloth. “Um, I mean, it's fine.”

“I'd like to get to know you better, if I may?”

Connor worried at his lower lip, trying to rationalise the man in front of him with the man he'd admired for so long. He couldn't quite believe that someone as impressive as Philip Burton, with all his degrees and awards and well, good looks, was really interested in anything that Connor had to say. There'd been some bumps in the road after all and Connor had inadvertently insulted the man he admired on more than one occasion and yet, and yet he was still looking at Connor like _that_ and it was making his insides do somersaults.

“You don't have to give me any kind of answer now, Connor. I know this is only the beginning and you are bound to have a lot of questions. I just wanted to make my intentions clear, that's all.”

“Your intentions?”

“All of them,” Burton said, putting his hand on Connor's leg and squeezing, before moving to the other end of the room and starting up the coffee machine, preparing himself and Connor a drink with quick precise movements.

“All of them...” Connor whispered to himself, admiring the firm curve of Burton's arse as he bent over to pick up a dropped spoon from the floor. He supposed he could work with that.  



End file.
